One Step At A Time
by rangermaid
Summary: Formerly titled 'Lilac'. Gilan isn't lying idle as Halt searches for Will; after all, he does have some idea of what he's doing.
1. Prologue

_Prologue: Five years before 'The Battle for Skandia'_

_Meric Fife was quiet as a calm noonday sun beat down on the lush green forest. Birdsong and the noises of small beasts echoed softly through the light speckled clearings and the sun warmed dirt path simmered slightly as the remains of a heavy rain evaporated under the heavy glare of the summer sun. The birdsong abruptly ended and the animals moved further into the shadows of the heavy green trees. The animals watched silently as a young man, not even really out of boyhood, made his way down the path. His footfalls were light and his presence barely noticeable to anyone but the small woodland creatures. He jogged out of sight but the animals stayed hidden; soon their caution was rewarded as another figure made its way through their territory. He stumbled and tripped around, breathing heavily and loudly and not bothering to mask his steps. The small animals were curious, what was this strange little human doing with The Silent One?_

_The 'little human' in question had had enough. "P-p…please! C-c-can we stop?" The strong looking boy staggered against a tree trying to stay upright, his breath came out in ragged gasps as he continued after the young man, cursing his long legs._

_Gilan glanced over his shoulder to watch the boy's progress. He was pleased; he had lasted longer than the young ranger had thought he would. He looked about to faint, but was still on his feet. Which was pretty good. He calmly jogged back to where the boy had stumbled to his knees and crouched in front of the heaving frame._

_Hauling himself up by grasping Gilan's arm the young man blinked through beads of sweat and gave a weak smile. "H-hey. I caught up…to you…heh."_

_Gilan smiled back, his face like the sun breaking through clouds. "Good."_

_With that he set off again at a slow jog. The boy gave a groan, tried to take a step and collapsed. Opening his eyes after a moment, his cheek pressed against the cool ground, he glared at the face that had appeared a mere inch from his. "I…think…I hate…you…sir."_

_Straightening into a kneeling position Gilan tried to hide his amusement. The boy's name was Erik, a second year student in Battleschool. Earlier that day the boy had initiated a fight amongst some other students and, when the young ranger had stepped in, had tried to argue with Gilan. After getting approval from a slightly smiling Battlemaster, the young man had kidnapped Erik for the day and given him an impromptu lesson in the ways of tracking. Any irritation that Gilan had felt toward this boy had evaporated quickly and finally he decided to put him out his misery. "I think that it's time for a break. I've had enough for now."_

_"I've had enough for a month!" Erik griped. He lay back on the damp grass gratefully and tried to calm his breathing._

_Gilan laughed and dug through his satchel for the flasks of water. As he rummaged, Erik watched the ranger. He wasn't sure what he had expected. When he had started the fight, he'd felt condescending; Rangers were just weird battleschool rejects hiding in the woods and spying on people. Afterwards he'd been a little -no, a lot- afraid; had he really disrespected a RANGER? Sure they were strange, but that just made them all the more terrifying. After all, some people thought they were sorcerers. But the more time Erik spent with the young man, the more he found himself liking him. Gilan was kind, very intelligent and possessed a great sense of humor. Now, Erik found himself cracking jokes and teasing the man back and it made him wonder how things could change so fast. _

_After almost an hour of just resting and eating a light lunch, Gilan finally spoke. "How was our little run?"_

_"Go to hell."_

_Smiling thinly he folded his arms. "Well?"_

_"Well what?" Erik's fierce temper began to take over, he was still sore and tired._

_"What did you learn?"_

_"That you are impossible to keep up with."_

_"Anything else?"_

_"…No." Erik deflated slightly, upset that he had let the ranger down. How could he learn something from running for hours?_

_Gilan leaned forward and said quietly, "If you had been running from an army you wouldn't pace yourself, you'd run like hell, as fast as possible; as we did today. Any idea where we are?"_

_Erik looked around. He realized suddenly that he was completely lost; the trees around him all looked the same and the castle was nowhere in sight._

_"If this happened you'd be separated from your unit, unable to pass on information. What good would that be?" Gilan looked him in the eye. "You must learn to take in your surroundings while you run. It could save your life."_

_Erik stared at the ranger and slowly he nodded. The young man continued. "The reason I wanted to show you this is because I feel that your emotions, your temper, is going to get you in trouble some day. You were angry with me this morning and just plunged into our run without thought, much like the way you engaged your peers earlier and then me. I don't want a promising soldier with a bright future to be cut down because of hot-headedness." _

_Erik was stunned. He'd just been complimented by a ranger. Gilan was worried about him. He tried to hide his flushed face by standing up quickly and blustering. _

_"Alright, alright! Look at my surroundings. Think before I act. Don't allow my temper to get the better of me. Got it, lesson learned."_

_Standing the young man stretched and grinned dryly. "Good, because you're leading us home."_

_Erik thought about the miles of forest they had trekked over and felt like screaming._

_It was late when Gilan made it back to his cottage. Even for a ranger, his day had been a long one. The last several had been actually. So all the young man wanted was sleep. Life had a different idea apparently. Nathan was standing by the fire, stirring a stew and asking cheerfully, "Hungry?"_

_Gilan didn't even answer; he just stalked into his room and slammed the door shut. Nathan hid a smile-yes, his friend couldn't see him through the door but sometimes he wondered if Gilan could sense these things-and pressed his mouth to the door. "Gil? You wouldn't be ignoring me would you?"_

_Something that sounded suspiciously like a boot thudded against the door along with a tirade of cursing._

_Nathan grinned and went back to the food as Gilan slipped out and sat next to him at the table, tucking into the rabbit stew hungrily. He eyed his friend then shrugged. "Kid's good. I like him. Just work with him a little more on tactics and he'll be knight material."_

_The young battlemaster nodded. At only twenty-five years of age, Nathan was rather young to be a battlemaster but no one could argue the young man's abilities. When he had met Gilan a year earlier he had laughed in the younger man's face. The idea of their deceased ranger being replaced with a boy of only eighteen who didn't even seem capable of growing a beard was ridiculous. But after the very exciting first few weeks of Gilan's post the two had begun a close friendship that the ranger had confided reminded him of the interactions of the Redmont Fife leaders. Nathan knew this helped Gilan feel more at home and was glad to have a friend like the young ranger._

_"Fine, Erik is the son of a friend. I'd hoped he took after his father a bit. Speaking of which, have you heard from your father lately?"_

_"No…why?" Gilan looked a little nervous but Nathan smiled calmingly._

_"I've heard that Sir David's caught the King's eye…there may be a promotion in his future."_

_Gilan's eyes widened and then he smiled. "That's wonderful!"_

_Nathan nodded and sipped at his coffee, letting silence fall before asking slyly. "Oh, and have you heard from your other father?"_

_"Oh quiet you!" Gilan laughed. _

_"What? I like Halt. He's…"_

_The two men grinned at each other._

_"Grumpy."_

_They both dissolved into laughter and chatted late into the night before Nathan left for his bed. Gilan watched his departure and thought about how much he'd disliked the man when he first arrived. _

_Rubbing at his eyes, the young man chuckled and went to his room. Peeling of his shirt Gilan stopped to look at himself in a burnished mirror; gazing at the small silver oak leaf hanging from the chain about his neck. He fingered it as he crawled into bed and lay clutching it; staring at his cloak slung over a chair. He smiled as he drifted to sleep. To be a Ranger…_


	2. Chapter 1: First Move

Festivals were a welcome distraction from the day-to-day duties of villagers and Meric Fife was rather good about those types of things.

"Joshua, hurry up!" Joshua scrapped his foot along the path, and shrugged the pack higher on his back as he trailed behind his father. Flicking dark bangs out of his eyes, he sighed heavily; causing his father to look at him sharply.

"Yes boy?"

"Nothing, nothing." Joshua trailed off gazing at the castle in the distance. "Nothing…"

Dust floated around his feet as he plodded toward the village square: shouldering past people and dodging carts. His quick eyes spotted a friendly face and he broke away from his father to run over to her. "Hullo Maggie. How are you?"

Maggie, a small girl with long red curls and freckles, blinked back tears as she pointed upward. As he followed her gaze he shaded his eyes with his hand against the sun. Up in the towering tree they stood under sat a calico cat, almost a tiny dot. He sighed and shook his head. "Again?"

Maggie sniffed. "I'm sorry. He didn't mean to."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Joshua muttered. Handing Maggie his pack he swung up on the lowest branch, searching for handholds and slowly gaining height. Like a monkey he scaled the tree, finding handholds that even squirrels wouldn't and going from steady branch to steady branch. A short time later he dropped lightly next to his friend and handed her the mischievous cat. "Here's your little devil."

He wandered off sucking at scratches on his hands and sent a hateful glance over his shoulder at the little ball of fur; it hissed at him.

Joshua was a thin, small boy of twelve. His father, Samson, was a woodworker. Joshua loved his father, but ever since his mother's death three years ago things had been stressed between them. Joshua knew one day he would take over from his father, but he had dreams. Dreams that seemed as far away as the clouds at this point.

The boy spent the afternoon helping his father at the stall; he bickered and bartered like a pro but lacked a certain motivation. During a slow period Samson handed his son some money and sent him off for drinks. He watched his son scamper off; Joshua was small, there was no denying the fact. He wasn't built for farming or even carpentry. At this rate, Samson was concerned for the child's future. He looked up as someone approached his table and had to steel his expression in order to smile slightly. "Can I help you sir?"

"Perhaps…" The tall figure in the deep cloak looked over the wares, pausing and pointing at a wooden box with a metal clasp and decorated with dark blue stones. "That, how much?"

If anyone asked, Samson would have denied lowering the price for the Ranger. He really would.

Joshua was leaving the tavern with two bubbly drinks when he heard a commotion nearby. Eager for anything out of the ordinary, he ran forward and took in the large group of men surrounding two slightly unkempt men. They were yelling back and forth, almost to blows.

"Admit it! Y'cheated!"

"I did no such thing! Ya' lost fair 'n' square and it's my money now!"

Joshua looked around for a knight or someone in charge to settle the crowd but none were to be seen. _Off drinking_, Joshua thought scornfully. The accusations had reached a crescendo and a brawl looked about to begin when Joshua noticed the figure in the trees.

To one side of the road, amid a grove of trees, stood a tall man in a cloak. The cloak was odd, a patchwork of greens, browns and grays that seemed to melt and blend with the background. Slowly he stepped forward and others in the crowd noticed, muttering and backing away slightly. One word was recognizable through the hurried whispering. _Ranger_. Joshua felt a shiver of excitement as he watched intently. While others considered Rangers to be sorcerers and bad luck, he was of the opinion that they were the most fascinating and amazing people in all of Araluen. In the fife of Meric their Ranger was a young man, and that was all Joshua knew. He watched closely.

It took the fighting men a little longer to notice the Ranger. They became aware of the odd silences and whispering before the shadowy figure. Crawdle who was a burly, if not so intelligent, man frowned at the strange man who had interrupted the argument. He had a vague idea that there was something about that particular cloak but a heavy fog of drunkenness clouded his senses and he couldn't think well. He waved a hand at the young man.

"Gerra way! This is private business."

"Is that why you are choosing to settle it in the middle of a public square?" The voice was not raised but still carried out over the crowd of attentive listeners. "I'm going to have to ask you to stop. This is all rather annoying, since I'm fairly sure you both cheated…"

Both men blustered and looked outraged. Crawdle waved a hand at the stranger threateningly. "Mind yer own business!"

The other man, Thatcher by name, was frowning. He had the slight idea that Crawdle was yelling at a Ranger and that was never a good idea…

An annoyed hiss came from the shadows under the hooded cloak. The Ranger took a step forward and his voice hardened. "Leave. Now."

Thatcher shivered at the menace that laced the voice and began to back away. Crawdle was still too intoxicated to understand the danger he was in. He glared up at the Ranger, who was rather tall.

"And iffin I don't want to?"

The blade was pressed against his gut before he could blink. He swallowed hard as the young man whispered and twisted the knife a bit. "I don't think you want to stay."

Crawdle finally realized that he was in trouble. He blustered and backed away looking for help. None was forthcoming. He retreated back to the tavern. The Ranger looked at Thatcher who put his hands up.

"I ain't fighting a Ranger." He walked off whistling; as he passed Joshua it seemed like the man winked at him.

The young boy looked back and saw the Ranger had disappeared. He was sad but wandered back to his father's stall with a spring in his step. That had been exciting.

Rangers were something.

Gilan sank to the ground beneath a tree with a sigh. What a day…He sipped at his ale and stared out at the festivities with a slight longing. He wanted to go and interact with the others but as a Ranger, he had a certain level of mystery to maintain and frolicking like a child would rather ruin that. He looked over his new box and nodded to himself. His older brother Marcus and his wife Beatrice had recently had their first child and the box would make a fine gift. He smiled slightly, remembering their wedding a few years back, and the comment Halt had made about, "Marriage turning sensible young men into jabbering idiots." Admittedly, Marcus had looked a little silly, stammering and blushing at every lewd joke that was made about his upcoming wedding night. Gilan had teased Halt about a certain Lady Pauline but the man had shrugged off his comments and muttered something about apprentices being more trouble than any blood child. Gilan chuckled into his cup; Halt did seem to pick troublesome apprentices. First himself, then with Wi-

Will.

All good humor gone, Gilan set down his cup and stared at the grass. The guilt was still raw and just below the surface; he would never fully forgive himself for loosing the teen. He wished he could have gone with Halt to find his friend, but like a good soldier, he had stayed behind to aid in rounding up the remains of Morgarath's army. Halt had left him in charge of catching the biggest of their problems: Foldar. Dammit.

Gilan hated himself for being so upset about the way things had worked out. He should have been glad that he had taken such a dangerous man off the roads, but his mind was clouded with concern for his absent friends. Even Horace had been allowed to go on the search, but not Gilan; no, he was left at home to clean up. At a soft sound Gilan looked to the right and saw Nathan settling down next to him. The last few years, the war with Morgarath in particular, had been hard on the battlemaster. Nathan was still an attractive man, his thick blonde hair curly and his blue eyes piercing. But there were pre-mature lines on his face and a heaviness in his step that made the man seem so much older than he was. Gilan allowed Nathan to steal his drink and instead looked at revelers. Waiting for his friend to speak.

"I hear that now that you've taken care of Foldar, they have a new job for you."

"Fine." It would mean action, for that Gilan was glad.

"Still sulking?"

"I do not sulk."

Nathan snorted at that and leaned back to join his companion in watching the crowd. "Gil, I understand that you feel guilty. But how is this helping your young friend?"

Gilan said nothing.

"Gil…let yourself off the hook."

"I don't think I can. Not until I know they're safe. Now, tell me about this job."

Nathan stretched and eyed an attractive young woman in a revealing blue dress. "I dunno much. Just that your boss, Crowley, he's sent a letter to Abram and that I think you'll be leaving soon."

"…Fantastic…"


	3. Author's Note

Hello readers. I am currently redoing all my stories and this one will be given a total makeover, for instance: no more Mary-sue. Yep, taking her out. So basically, when I next update with a new chapter please read from chapter one. I'm sure you'll love the changes. I will post a little erratically since I'm in school and also working on several other stories but I will continue and re-vamp this. Thank you for your patience.


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